


A Journal of Unappreciated Genius (and Tea)

by katsu



Category: Landel's: Damned (LJ Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-30
Updated: 2011-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-26 01:17:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsu/pseuds/katsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin Landel keeps a journal. No, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Journal of Unappreciated Genius (and Tea)

**Author's Note:**

> Silly. Very, very silly. Written for Oktoberfest '11 for [Landel's Damned](http://damned.livejournal.com), a multifandom livejournal RP.
> 
>  **Beta:** Zalia and Rynn  
> 

**ENTRY 743**  
New shipment arrived today: Earl Gray, Oolong, Green Tea, English Breakfast, even some Orange Pekoe for those that like that sort of thing. Expensive, but definitely worth it.

I took the liberty of removing the green tea for my personal use. ~~It's good to be the Head Doctor sometimes.~~ Actually, it's _always_ good to be the Head Doctor.

  
 **ENTRY 744**  
New shipment arrived today: just another group of freaks and whiners from the dregs of multiple sub-universes. I'm beginning to feel frustrated with the quality of what we're getting, and their lack of enthusiasm for this project. It's always "my sword this" and "my magic that" and "what about my needs?"

No one seems to stop to think that this isn't exactly what I'd be doing with my time if the world were fair and all of the clouds were made out of cotton candy and rained fluffy kittens with dear little white whiskers.

Well, actually it is. The whining is almost cute, in a sort of pathetic way, like a midget falling down the stairs in slow motion.

I think I'll go watch that video again, actually.

  
 **ENTRY 778**  
Decided to say hello to all the patients in chapel this morning. They're so cute when they're angry and trying to kill me. It's days like this that I remember why I'm glad I chose this job over dental hygienist like the guidance counselor suggested.

  
 **ENTRY 791**  
Mother always told me there would be days like this.

Well, no, actually, she didn't. I don't think that woman ever said a single remotely useful thing to me, other than her parting admonition to always look on the bright side and see the sunny days chasing in behind the rain clouds. (At least I think that's what she said, it was a bit difficult to tell as the sedatives had really begun to take hold at that point.) But it's that sort of fascinating madness that launched my lifelong devotion to helping those in need, so who am I to complain?

And the head nurse says I'm not funny. She obviously doesn't understand a sophisticated sense of humor. (Though one might argue the mind-altering substances I've got her on don't help.) It's my belief that she likewise doesn't understand the basic physics behind electricity, since I caught her jamming a fork in the staff lounge toaster without unplugging it first a few days ago.

Note to self: Start advertising for new head nurse sooner rather than later.

But I digress. Days like this. And in the case at hand, "this" should be read as a complete waste of time coupled with a major annoyance.

Apparently many from the new batch of patients dislike me greatly. This is of course no surprise, and I suppose it's an indication that there's at least a few electrical impulses churning around in the gelatinous bags they have in place of brains. However, they've found a new tactic for bothering the nurses, which is to complain about _inconsequential_ things, like food and beverages.

And the nurses, of course, have brought this problem to me, for reasons that I have yet to comprehend. They seemed to be under the mistaken impression that this is just the sort of issue I ought to care deeply about. Because goodness knows, I don't do anything else around here.

I told the nurses that if it was that important to them, they could feel free to put up a suggestion box. I believe this will have the dual benefit of distracting both the nurses and patients, leaving me blissfully alone so that I can pursue more important projects.

My new knife arrived in the mail, so I need to practice with it. When it comes time to do a quick draw, I will not be cutting myself like an utter tool ~~again~~.

  
 **ENTRY 795**  
Suggestion box has backfired. Paper shredder has experienced a terminal clog. Was tempted to ask head nurse to attempt to fix it, in the hopes that she'd be inserting her fingers into the maw of the electronic beast. Thought better of it upon the realization that it would make a real mess all over my carpet should the plan actually succeed.

  
 **ENTRY 797**  
The nurses now insist that we're going to start serving rice and tea in the cafeteria, among other little fripperies that are completely unnecessary and another red mark on a budget that's due to come up for review any day now. It is a sad reflection on my willpower that they were able to wear me down enough that I agreed to this ridiculous concession to begin with.

Maybe it's because I haven't been sleeping well lately. The number of reports I'm being asked to submit has gone from unbelievable to ludicrous.

  
 **ENTRY 801**  
In addition to giving the patients what they wanted--

For goodness sake, has not one of the nurses a small child? Has not one of the nurses encountered the book _If You Give a Mouse a Cookie_? Do they seriously believe that it will end here, now that the complaining has been rewarded? No, next it's going to be clothing other than the uniforms, or non-standard shoes, or a wading pool in the courtyard, and they'll all show up in my office with those annoying, cheerful faces and just _expect_ that I'll be pleased to help out. What on earth did I do to give them the impression that the mental well being of the patients was in any way an interest of mine?

But I digress. In addition to caving to the seemingly inconsequential demands, thus allowing the patients to establish a figurative beach head as a group that's actually allowed to _negotiate_ , the nurses **gave them my tea. My personal tea.**

There will be blood. None of it will be mine.

  
 **ENTRY 805**  
"Thanks for the fucking tea" indeed. **Indeed**. I hope you choke on it, you hateful little red-headed troll.

  
 **ENTRY 811**  
Killed Alec.

Ice cream!

  
 **ENTRY 815**  
Have now installed a threatening red button on my desktop. I can feel my stress level lowering every time I look at it. Not because it does anything yet, but more because often, making a concrete plan of action is actually more soothing than following that plan. Plus, the head nurse saw me easing my hand toward the button yesterday, and excused herself immediately. Perfect.

Considering possible locations for the future alligator pit, since a lovely red button is of course no use without a place to send the idiots that force me to use it. I'm currently thinking that I can just put it in the medical wing, which will allow me to utilize the ventilation shafts in the laundry room as Chutes of Death. (Hm, perhaps if I ever have a rock band, I shall name it Chutes of Death.) And it's not as if anyone will notice. The medical wing's been locked down since... well, ever.

  
 **ENTRY 822**  
New requirements being heaped upon me by my military paymasters have necessitated restarting construction in the medical wing for the use of actual patients. My alligator pit is but a fondly remembered dream, never to be made into reality.

The next time some fat moron in an ill-fitting tuxedo tells me that, "Military contracting is the way to go, my boy, it's easy money and they don't really care about results..." I will plunge a fish fork into his neck. See if I don't.

  
 **ENTRY 825**  
On the plus side, the coliseum has been seeing quite a bit of use these days. On the less than plus side, I feel like there's a distinct lack of enthusiasm from the patients when it comes to this project. Not a single decapitation yet. And it would really be nice if the patients would put a little _effort_ into their attempts at bantering with me.

No one seems to appreciate the time and materials I put forth to get the coliseum made and set up. I of course don't expect the patients to appreciate it – whiny little sods – but a few awed looks in between them shouting four letter words at me would be _nice_. And I'm really not getting the level of support I'd like to see from the staff on this one either.

Really, is it my fault that it's a tiny bit inconvenient to clean blood from a dirt floor? Or that the freight elevator is just a little too small so the cleaning staff has to use the small floor polisher instead of the large one? The way they're going on about it, you'd think I'd eaten a puppy in front of them. ~~Hm, maybe~~

Expecting a new shipment of tea tomorrow. Had to order extra because the patients are drinking it at an absolutely precipitous rate. Why did I ever agree to this?

  
 **ENTRY 833**  
Now they're asking for cigarettes.

And the nurses are on their side. Really? Aren't nurses supposed to be caring, health-conscious people who know that, oh I don't know, _cigarettes cause cancer_? On the other hand, at least half of the nursing staff smokes like a chimney anyway.

Next thing you know, they'll probably be pointing out that the patients just _keep requesting_ fully automated assault rifles and _well those poor dears_ it will just make them feel more at home and keep them calm, can't I do something about it?

  
 **ENTRY 835**  
Cleaning crew has threatened to go on strike.

I grow weary of this. Thankfully, ~~my negotiating skills are without compare~~ I have zombies.

  
 **ENTRY 836**  
It's been a very trying day and I really don't want to dwell on it.

I long for the old days, when people actually stayed properly dead when _I_ killed them. And when the corpses I _did_ choose to reanimate would just eat the thrice-damned unionists in the cleaning crews, _as they were intended to_. Alec, I will be adding this to the list of things you just can't seem to get right.

And to top it off, I seem to be coming down with a cold.

  
 **ENTRY 838**  
Yes, it is a cold. My poor throat. And as if to add insult to injury, there's no tea. **WHY IS THERE NO TEA?**

  
 **ENTRY 841**  
Drafting plan to have all red-heads in the institute (really, I think only a few of them are true annoyances, but let's be honest... after a while all the patients start to look the same) broken into pieces by means of heavy earth moving equipment and subsequently mulched. I shall call the project "Ginger Snaps."

The head nurse did not find this funny. Then again, she finds none of my best jokes funny, and this is only one more reminder of what a hideous failing it is on her part. I was considering having her ~~killed~~ sacked since she hasn't been all that useful anyway, and then found out that she's distantly related to some important military person. If this is a cosmic joke being played by the multitude of universes, it isn't funny. Not at all.

  
 **ENTRY 844**  
The head nurse? Really? Truly? ~~I know you'd said I'd ruined you for men, Alec, but~~

Well, I suppose that explains why I never really liked that woman anyway. I always knew there was something wrong with her, and it had nothing to do with her strange ideas of toaster maintenance. If this is the best the resistance has to offer, I might almost feel sorry for them.

Except not. I want to drown every last one of those mewling hippies in a vat of custard.

  
 **ENTRY 845**  
Found a gray hair this morning. Location will remain undisclosed. Am most displeased. I believe it's a stress-induced problem, possibly related to the endless radio-person whack-a-mole game I seem to be engaged in. I always hated that game, from the moment I first encountered it as a six-year-old in that pizza parlor where I had my birthday party. (The one I later burned down... you know, _that_ one.)

Desperation and lack of men's hair dye in appropriate color caused me to attempt a Hail Mary of sorts, in that I actually tried to talk to a few of the patients. I know that I shouldn't have _expected_ any of the devolved baboons in this institution to actually _understand_ a simple point, but... oh well, ratcheting down my expectations once more.

Some days I despair, I really do. And then I have a soothing cup of tea. Only all that's currently left is some horrible concoction flavored with licorice, because all the rest has been used up by the two-legged misery machines that plague my existence.

  
 **ENTRY 850**  
 ~~Really, I have had just about enough of this.~~ Actually, I have had enough. More than enough. My cup runneth over with enough. ~~Because it sure as hell isn't running over with tea these days.~~ Really, the General thinks he can make demands like that of me? Of _me_? Just who does he think he's dealing with?

Between the General and the nurses, apparently _everyone_ thinks they can run this little dog and pony show better than me. Perhaps I have only myself to blame, since I suppose I do make it look easy. But still! Still!

I've half a mind to let them try.

  
 **ENTRY 853**  
After reading through this morning's dispatches, my half mind has become a full mind. An inspection _indeed_. It takes some nerve, sticking one's nose into another man's facility like that.

I could use a vacation anyway. It's been so long since my poor legs have seen the tropical sun that it's a wonder they don't glow in the dark. Visions of drinks with little frilly umbrellas and fruit slices dance in my head.

  
 **ENTRY 854**  
The plan has been set in motion. The inspection is scheduled for tomorrow, and I do expect everyone to be punctual. The military's good for that at least. ~~And the cute uniforms.~~ One of the few orderlies I trust will be planting my suggestion in a few vulnerable minds, and events should proceed apace from there. For all that I make fun of the little dears, I know I can always count on the patients to act like a bunch of monkeys at a poo-flinging contest.

  
 **ENTRY 865**  
Success! I was arrested!

You know, I never thought I'd put those two sentences together. Life is truly a puzzle without end, that we will go to our graves without ever truly solving.

Goodness, what bullshit.

  
 **ENTRY 866**  
Success! Escape has been achieved!

My man on the inside is dutifully keeping me informed of the military's actions in the institute. If I didn't hate them all with the fiery passion of a thousand stars, I might actually feel sorry for them. Except that I had all of my pity surgically removed when I got my nose done.

Oh, I kill me sometimes.

It's not exactly a tropical resort, but I've got a nice little camp in the woods with all the amenities needed – internet, television, books. The orderly was good enough to rescue the big red button from my office, so I have that as well to hold at night so I dream of the General or that infernal Lydia woman tumbling to their deaths in my well-maintained and spacious alligator pit.

I may never go back. Other than the irrefutable fact that no one could possibly do as good of a job at the Institute as me. I do hope this experience will help them all appreciate the thousand ways I make life better on a daily basis.

And at last my tea supply is my own, far outside the reach of the grubby hands of complacent nurses and whinging patients.

It's good to be the Head Doctor.  



End file.
